Gail Carriger - Heartless

“Are we on fire?” Lady Maccon shifted herself into a better position, drew down the window sash, and stuck her head out into the rushing air, trying to see behind them.

It might have been difficult for her to make out their enemy, had there been a man on horseback or another carriage behind them, but the thing skittering after them over the fields and between the hedgerows was doing so on eight massive tentacles. Well, seven massive tentacles—it had the eighth in front of it spurting fire at the carriage. It was also several stories high.

Alexia pulled her head back inside. “Dr. Caedes, I suggest you have your charge there show himself. It might prevent Genevieve from actually killing us.”

The carriage lurched again and picked up speed. The vampire on the roof, having succeeded in beating out the flames, had jumped off. But they were moving nowhere near as fast as they had initially—the horses were tiring, if not becoming winded and destroyed by such cruel speed.

The octomaton was gaining on them, and Woolsey still a good distance away.

Dr. Caedes changed his grip on the boy and tried to force Quesnel to stick his head out of the carriage window. Quesnel was not at all inclined to do anything any of the vampires wanted. Alexia gave her friend’s son an almost imperceptible nod, at which point he did as directed. He stuck not only his head but also one skinny arm outside, waving madly at the creature behind them.

The ache in Lady Maccon’s back intensified and she felt her stomach lurch, wavelike. She’d never experienced such a sensation before. She let out a squeak of alarm and fell back against the padded wall of the coach. Then it was gone.

Alexia poked at her stomach with a finger. “Don’t you dare. Now is most inopportune! Besides, arriving early to a party is disrespectful.”

The octomaton fell back just far enough to allow the carriage to slow, but if Alexia knew Madame Lefoux, this was only giving the inventor time to come up with a new plan of attack. Genevieve must realize Alexia was also in the carriage and that they were headed to Woolsey. There was no other reason to be on that road at that time, for aside from everything else, no one traveled to Barking at night and no one ever traveled to Barking at speed.

“Oh, my goodness.” Lady Maccon had the most uncomfortable feeling that she had lost some of her legendary control, over the physical, if not the mental. A wet sensation in her lower area indicated that her bustle, and quite possibly the rest of her dress, really was not going to survive this night. Then came that wavelike feeling again, starting at the top of her stomach and working its way down.

Dr. Caedes, who wasn’t a real doctor, was nevertheless perceptive enough to see that the tenor of Lady Maccon’s distress had changed.

“Lady Maccon, have you commenced? That would be most unfortunate timing.”

Alexia frowned. “No, I absolutely forbid it. I will not—Oooh.” She ended on a groan.

“I believe you have.”

Quesnel perked up at this. “Bully! I’ve never seen a birth before.” He turned big lavender eyes onto the now-sweating Lady Maccon.

“You’re not going to tonight, either, young man,” Alexia reprimanded between puffs of breath.

The countess, who was still twitchy as all get out and only partly paying attention to any conversation, looked with bright suspicious eyes at Alexia. “You can’t. Not while I am here with you. What if it comes out and we have to touch it? Dr. Caedes, throw her out of the carriage at once.”

Even with the strange wave sensation and a burgeoning pain, Alexia was quick enough to reach into her reticule and pull out Ethel before Dr. Caedes could stop her.

Not that he tried. Instead, he attempted to reason with the countess. “We can’t, my queen. We need her to get us inside the house. She is our invitation.”

Lady Maccon felt compelled to add, “And this is my carriage! If anyone is getting out, it’s you!” She felt an additional downward pressure from the child inside her. “No, not you !” Then she looked wildly around. “This is not allowed,” she said in a blanket kind of way, including both the imminent baby, the vampires, Quesnel, and the octomaton. She looked down at her belly. “I will not begin our relationship with disobedience. I get enough of that from your father.”

The countess looked like she had eaten something foul, like a piece of fresh fruit. “I cannot be in proximity to an abomination! Do you know what might transpire?”

Now, this form of panic could be useful. “No, why don’t you enlighten me?”

Too late. A crushing, grinding noise came from behind them. Alexia had no idea what the octomaton was up to, but when she stuck her head out of the window, she saw it was no longer following them. The carriage had turned off the main track, into the long weaving roadway that wended through Woolsey’s grounds.

They were almost home.

Mere moments later, a tremendous crash came in front of them and the carriage slewed to one side and came to a rocking halt. Out of the window Alexia could see Woolsey just ahead atop its rise of ground, silvered under the moonlight, looking as though it had its own form of stone tentacles embodied in multiple flying buttresses.

It might as well have been a thousand leagues away, for the octomaton had felled a tree across the road before them. Lord Ambrose could not turn the carriage around, even if the high hedges permitted such a thing, for behind them the massive metal creature barred the way. The vampire escort, panting from their long run, instinctively formed a barrier before the coach, as though they could stop any attack by physically imposing themselves between the octomaton and their queen.

Alexia glanced around in desperation. She was among enemies, exhausted, and about to give birth. She was running out of options and would have to trust one of the vampires. Opening the carriage door, she yelled at the vanguard, “Your Grace, I have a proposition for you.”

The Duke of Hematol turned to face her.

“We need some help, and we need a distraction if we are to make our destination.”

“What do you suggest, Lady Maccon?”

“That we call out the hounds.”

“And how do we do that? You definitely can’t run to the castle from here, none of us can carry you to Woolsey, and no claviger will take the word of a vampire messenger.”

“Listen to me. You tell them that Lady Maccon says it is a matter of urgency. The Alpha female requires her pack to attend her, regardless of their current state.” I will have to change the secret phrase now.

“But—”

“It will work. You must trust me.” She wasn’t certain, of course. A matter of urgency was pack code for Lady Maccon acting as muhjah. She had rarely had to use the summons, and then only with a perfectly sane husband or Beta, never with only clavigers. Would the message even be understood?

The duke gave her one hard, long look. Then he whirled and ran, leaping the fallen tree with almost as much ease as a werewolf, heading directly for the castle, supernatural speed in full effect.

With one of their oldest and wisest gone and the great metal octopus looming above their unprotected queen, the vampires around Lady Maccon went ever so slightly insane themselves. Not as mad as the countess, but definitely wild. One of them charged the octomaton, only to be swept easily aside.

The metal creature raised up a tentacle to its eye slit, once more opening the tip and flipping out the bullhorn that allowed Madame Lefoux to speak.

“Give me Quesnel. You are out of options.” There came a short pause. “I can hardly believe it of you, Alexia, helping vampires. They tried to kill you!”